


Just to Fall Asleep with You

by Aepyceros



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Has a Crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Aged-Up Character(s), Akuma, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hot Mess Adrien Agreste, Hot Mess Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Marichat | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Miraculous Ladybug Love Square, Platonic Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Psychological Trauma, Secret Identity, big spoon marinette dupain-cheng, i didn't mean to write this, little spoon chat noir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:40:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aepyceros/pseuds/Aepyceros
Summary: Urgency drove them from each other. Ladybug and Chat Noir and the secrets of the Miraculous always came first. Marinette and Adrien were just two slow motion casualties no pink swarm could ever make right, gradually suffocating - alone - under the weight of the quantum-level masking. Each of them were two identities sharing a single life where only one identity could ever take priority, to the detriment of the other. When did the spots and claws become so costly? What once made them feel powerful was draining them slowly, and unspoken secrets filled their lungs at the expense of breathing. A burden only shared in times of crisis compounded upon their shoulders every time they became just two more faces in the crowd, even to each other.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Simple Plan's "I'd Do Anything."
> 
> I didn't want to start another chaptered work, but it was demanding to be written. I'm not in charge - I just work here. I may have to come back and massage this a little, but I'm pretty happy with it so far.
> 
> Chap 2 is mostly written. Will update as the story decides to make itself known. I'll be waiting with you to see what our favorite idiots decide to do.

It was the worst akuma they'd yet faced.

“Inner Demon.”

What its name lacked in imagination, it more than made up for in ferocity.

In every way, it had been too close.

They were standing too far apart when the swarm of ladybugs cleared, revealing the heroes to be once again whole but visibly shaken and only seconds away from their transformations dropping while the whole of Paris watched. There was no time to savor the victory, take in the restorations, seek out each other. Their worlds narrowed down to quaking muscles and frantic beeping, eyes blinded by the looping replay of the last few moments, as a new crisis replaced the last.

_HIDE._

Each fled for concealment, foregoing their customary "pound it" that had, over the years, become an honored post-battle ritual, one that grounded them in the tangible affirmation of each other's well-being, a final check-in before parting ways, recharging kwamis, and jumping back into the fray of of the double lives they led.

Launching themselves from the scene this time, however, there was no chance even to glance back, to seek eye contact with their partner, to project and receive the unspoken “I’m OK” they had come to rely on from each other at the times when there were ever any doubts.

The ladybugs had done their job - they always did - but the heroes had to take it entirely on faith, without even the briefest of visual confirmations, that their partner was among the restored casualties, safe and well and standing once more. Faith was a difficult endeavor when the last glimpses of each other were painted in gore and jagged angles. It left them both feeling...unsettled, to say the least. Worry for one another, corrosive afterimages, echoed screams, and phantom pains clawed at their minds like a rabid dog at their heels as their stumbling steps carried their exhausted bodies homeward through the darkening twilight. Though their physical wounds had been righted amidst the flurry of magical wings, the psychological trauma began to fester as soon as they turned their backs to the scene that only a moment before had been stained dark with their own blood and viscera. It was too much on top of a situation that was already too much and too hard and too heavy to bear.

The timing wasn't the only thing that had been too close.

Urgency drove them from each other. Ladybug and Chat Noir and the secrets of the Miraculous always came first. Marinette and Adrien were just two slow motion casualties no pink swarm could ever make right, gradually suffocating - alone - under the weight of the quantum-level masking. Each of them were two identities sharing a single life where only one identity could ever take priority, to the detriment of the other. When did the spots and claws become so costly? What once made them feel powerful was draining them slowly, and unspoken secrets filled their lungs at the expense of breathing. A burden only shared in times of crisis compounded upon their shoulders every time they became just two more faces in the crowd, even to each other.

When their transformations gave out under the cover of shadows, witnessed only by boarded and broken windows, they lost their last link to one another along with the last of their strength. Their equally exhausted kwamis were in no condition to recharge. No amount of cheese and macrons in all of Paris could do the work that only time could manage for the tiny, spent deities. Adrien and Marinette were forced to sneak into their separate homes as their civilian selves. This wasn't anything new, just an inconvenience that had become an unfortunate but occasional necessity after extended and hard-won battles. This just happened to be the closest their human forms had come to giving out completely as well before they neared their homes. Getting into their separate beds undetected proved almost as difficult as the akuma itself. And only slightly less difficult than getting back out of bed for morning classes.

Adrien, never previously one to be late, stumbled into class halfway through first period. Marinette almost missed first period entirely. Sleep-deprived and preoccupied, neither noticed the other's tardy arrivals and somber moods. What thoughts their addled brains could manufacture centered obsessively around their masked counterparts.

_Was he truly healed?_

_Was she safe?_

_Did he sleep?_

_Will she be ok?_

_How bad were his nightmares?_

_When will I see her again?_

Adrien’s and Marinette’s uncharacteristically distracted selves, the deepening circles under their glazed eyes, didn’t escape the notice of their classmates, particularly their besties Alya and Nino. But true to his reliably chill demeanor, Nino didn't pry. And for once the voracious reporter was afraid to ask the pointed questions...or any at all for that matter. She wanted neither to talk nor hear of it _ever_ again, especially after having to rewatch and edit out the worst of the footage before posting on the Ladyblog. Nope, Alya wasn't revising one bit of that. Marinette and Adrien looked far more affected than even she, and Alya, for the first time, didn't want to know the why.

_Shellshocked._

_Liked they'd seen ghosts._

_Like they'd seen their_ own _ghosts._

She shuddered.

When it came down to it, pretty much everyone was still shaken by the intensity of the previous day's attack. It was more so the case for those, like Alya and Nino [ _and apparently Marinette and Adrien_ ], who had the misfortune of seeing in real time the brutal hits their heroes took, had seen each other take, had taken for each other. Conclusion: far be it for her to pry into the particular nature of the nightmares this Hawkmoth spawn's attack had visited upon their poor friends' dreaming hours. She was trying to forget her own nightmares and didn’t need the extra fodder. Thankfully no one else was offering.

Sometimes the things unsaid tell the bigger story. 

It wasn't a story Alya wanted to know. Or tell. It was one she wanted more than anything to forget.

~~

It took the better part of a day for the kwamis to return to full strength, but neither of their charges could stomach donning their suit only to be confronted by a "not available" screen at the other end of their communication devices, the other's face overlaid once more with red… It would only serve as invitation for vivid flashbacks that threatened at the edges of their awareness to unleash themselves full force. The last images they carried of each other already danced in technicolor every time they closed their eyes.

And so, they stumbled through two days with very worried kwamis hovering nearby, refusing to leave their sides, providing what comfort they could until the next akuma would force their deteriorating charges back into their suits. Simultaneously. And they'd be able to confirm the other was indeed still with them. No longer bleeding out on the street while the world watched…

~~

Post-akuma day two was when Adrien couldn't take it anymore. Arriving home from school, he told Nathalie to clear his schedule and have his dinner sent to his room, making excuses he didn't feel well and didn't want to be disturbed. His bloodshot eyes forestalled any argument. With a tight-lipped glower, she gave a curt nod and made the appropriate notes in her ever-present tablet. For the next three hours, Adrien waited, pacing his expansive room like a caged and claustrophobic panther, until his dinner arrived. Then locked the door to his room without fear of his absence being discovered. With a "claws out," he was out the window, dinner abandoned untouched. The ice in his stomach left no room for food, no allowance for hunger pains. _Ice in his stomach for the blood from hers._

It hadn't followed any path of contemplation. Adrien's mind had fallen upon Marinette, and Chat Noir was landing on her balcony without conscious effort made to end up there. The details didn't matter when the end result was the same. He needed her, and here he was.

But...

Did he imagine the way her skylight burst open the second after his feet touched down? He certainly wasn't imagining the bruising circles and puffy red eyes set off by her blood-drained parlor. He knew that Marinette and Chat Noir weren't close enough as friends to account for her tormented expression or the naked relief that filled her eyes when they fell upon him, but maybe it was a reflection of how all Parisians felt after the agony they'd witnessed their heroes endure. He'd certainly caught a few of the stricken visages of their classmates. Haunted. That was the word.

But Marinette looked far beyond haunted. She looked like she'd seen the Resurrection itself.

Barely had the observation registered than he was on his ass with a lap full of Marinette, clinging to him, hyperventilating, sobbing.

_I dreamed I'd lost you._

Surely he'd heard wrong. Although to be fair he'd been pretty sure he'd lost himself...right before the Red disappeared in a swarm of pink.

_Pink like Marinette…_

Her shoulder pressed against his bell which in turn pressed against his windpipe until he could gently extricate himself from her [ _surprisingly strong_ ] grasp. He gently but firmly brought her hands to his chest, settled her between his knees with his back against her railing and just held her. She turned her head to press her ear against his chest between her hands, just listening to his heart settle to an almost-normal rhythm, feeling herself rise and fall with his breaths, matching her breath to his and his to hers. Her arms slid around his waist, and he sighed into her hair.

Behind the mask, Adrien took comfort in holding and being held by his unknowing friend. His good friend. His best friend. [ _And when did she leapfrog Nino on the charts anyway??_ ] LB was his best friend in the suit. Marinette was his best friend in civvies. And here was Marinette clinging to Chat like he would disappear. [ _He almost did, but he knew he wouldn't because_ She _wouldn't_ let _it happen. And She didn't. He hadn't doubted for a moment._ ] Not for the first time, but certainly for the first time in a long time, thoughts emerged unbidden of Marientte beneath the spots and both of her holding both of him.

_If only he could be so lucky…_

Chat Noir shushed Marinette and purred to help ground her in the moment, in the sense of him. She gasped slightly then and melted against him. He held her until, minutes or hours later, he felt her start to pull away, relaxed his hold enough for her to sit up and meet his eyes.

Suddenly, he felt unmasked, actually flicked his eyes down to check for blue instead of black. Marinette's face had no reason to look at him like that. Her eyes had no business pinning Chat Noir through the chest like a mounted akuma butterfly, on display before her gaze. It was so reminiscent of His Lady that he suddenly knew in his heart that She was whole and breathing, too, and _still here_. His head bumped against the brick behind him. But the impact didn't register through the relief that inundated him at the inexplicable confirmation.

Marinette rose on shaky legs. As she stood, he could almost watch the calm and resolution settle over her. Like mist. It settled on him, too, and all he wanted was to wrap himself up in it. She extended her hand to him, a lifeline. He took it and followed her to the trap door and down. No sooner had they landed on her mattress than she was pushing him down against her pillows, wrapping herself around him like he was all the comfort in the world. He closed his eyes as her breathing slowed - puffs of breath tickling where her nose nestled at the nape of his neck - and they slept the restorative rest of two souls at peace.

Neither seemed to notice that no words had been spoken. That no words were necessary. And neither cared, or thought to question, why.

But that didn't stop Chat from dreaming the old and long ago abandoned fantasy of a thirteen-year-old boy wherein the arms of his Princess and His Lady, however impossible, were the same.


	2. Chapter 2

~~

The alarm was unwelcome, but for the first time in days, the sound didn't feel like it was flaying his skin, crushing his bones. And...was his alarm sounding on loop?...in stereo? A body shifted behind him.

_Huh?_

An arm draped over his chest.  
A leg sprawled across his hips.  
A skylight above him and a contented sigh in his ear.

_Ohhhh._

They each fidgeted to switch off their alarms, otherwise refusing to relinquish their nest of tangled limbs. But Chat was fast-becoming aware of his rumbling stomach and the angry kwami of Destruction waiting behind the transformation to demand aged wheels of camembert for all its troubles.

_Huh. Hunger._

Oh. Right. He hadn't eaten in - coming up on - sixty hours. His stomach growled again, that stalking panther back, demanding prey in the form of baked goods. Marinette slid her hand down to his belly and giggled sleepily. Her nails began to scritch absent-mindedly over his protesting stomach as she asked, "Someone sounds famished. When was the last time you ate?" As if on cue, her own stomach grumbled against his spine. "I'm guessing 57 hours, 34 minutes?"

He didn't need to do the math. Clearly she didn't either, which was weird but nowhere near a priority for mental reserves usage to ponder. "Yeah."

Nowhere near a priority for blood usage either as he angled his front slightly more away from her to prevent her noticing Little Adrien saluting the dawn. The quantum masking of the suit was good at preserving his modesty from observant eyes, but he didn't want the leg thrown haphazardly over his waist to shatter the convenient illusion.

She rose up on her elbow and kissed his right cheek before climbing down from the loft and exiting down the hatch that led to the living quarters and bakery below. His back suddenly felt too cold, too exposed. Had she intentionally positioned herself as the big spoon shielding him from the open room behind him? The air stirred in her absence, making the hair at the back of his neck above the suit stand on end, and not in a good way because it wasn’t the warm, humid, and alive breath of her. He felt exposed, vulnerable, compromised. And he didn't like it.

Chat settled himself into a seated position and waited. Within a few minutes, Marinette was climbing back up through the floor hatch and carrying a tray full of a variety of croissants, fruit, cheese, jam, and juices. She set it out on her ottoman while he climbed down from her lofted mattress and stood awkwardly shifting his weight foot to foot, ears drooping slightly, tail twitching agitatedly. He was suddenly unsure of what to do and very aware he'd just spent the night with the beautiful girl who sat behind Adrien for years in class pressed to his back. While he was Cat Noir. Whom she barely knew and definitely shouldn't be treating like a stray come home.

"Chat, come here." It sounded like the endearing-on-the-edge-of-exasperation tone he was used to from Ladybug, complete with a subdued version of the familiar blue-eyed twinkle. In other words, he knew better than to defy that tone that promised _or else_. He slinked to the chaise looking every bit the timid stray and sat angled toward her on the end of the chaise, knees brushing against hers. Toes touching. Just that simple contact grounded him to the spot, dispelled any remnant of anxious energy. If he didn't know better, he would have said it did the same for her. But he knew better...didn't he?

They ate in comfortable - no, _comforting_ \- silence. As they shared their meal, she kept finding ways to touch him. Simple brushes of hands. Bump of knees. Slide of foot. Shoulder pressed to shoulder. With each touch, it was like watching the sun come out from behind whatever storm had been tormenting her before his unannounced arrival on her roof. As that sun came out, it melted the remaining ice that constricted his abdomen, allowed the food to settle warm and satisfying in his neglected stomach. He was selfishly glad of the mutual effect he seemed to be having on her because of the way each touch was anchoring and soothing him. Ice giving way to cool, soothing balm. He never wanted her to stop.

_Crap._ It was going to be really hard to sit in classes near, next to, or across from her without seeking out those little touches. He was already addicted. She was _finally_ not a nervous wreck around Adrien-him, had become a jovial constant in his presence, a platonic intimacy he valued equal to the wielding of his Miraculous, and he did not want to do anything to cause her to revert to her former tendencies where Adrien-he was concerned. Adrien would have to keep his hands to himself until he could figure out how to join back up with her as Chat Noir...and the sooner the better.

It was going to be a long, agonizing day.

And the kicker was that he still half-heartedly was wishing for an akuma so he could see His Lady and confirm with his eyes what he knew in his heart: that She was, indeed, still safe and standing strong by his side. His heart finally knew without a doubt she was ok, but his eyes hungered for the visual to accompany that knowledge [ _and erase the last one_ ].

They finished breakfast, and he was surprised at how much food Marinette managed to put away despite her small frame. Maybe she hadn't been eating either. A lot of people must have been traumatized by "Inner Demons." It sucked that the one thing the Miraculous Ladybugs couldn't heal was trauma of the non-physical variety. He wished Marinette didn't have to suffer. That he and Ladybug had to bear the mental and emotional scars was hard enough. Seeing them reflected back at him in Marinette's haunted eyes hurt more than wanted to think about in that moment. At least the circles had faded some, which indicated their sleeping arrangements had been as beneficial for her as for him. He hoped desperately that was the case because he didn't want it to be a one-time deal. Knowing someone literally had his back throughout the night had kept the nightmares at bay and brought back the sweet, nostalgic dreams of his more innocent younger self. He knew without looking in a mirror that Adrien's appearance would demonstrate the same improvement but hoped it wouldn't be too noticeable of a change, inviting questions his brain wasn't yet functional enough to deflect with boyish charm he was fast outgrowing.

They cleaned up their breakfast aftermath in companionable silence, but it slowly became awkward as the school day loomed nearer. Neither wanted to be alone...at least that's how it felt. But Adrien had a ride to catch to school and a Nathalie to check in with before leaving the house. He hoped his locked bedroom door would send the message that he simply didn't want to be disturbed, not that he was dead or absent or intentionally petulant. Nathalie had noted his bedraggled state with displeasure last evening, and he hoped any knocks at his door that went unanswered would be chalked up to much needed sleep and nothing more. The longer he hovered in Marinette's room, though, the more his tardiness in emerging from his own room would be noted and need to be answered for.

Marinette noticed his sigh and the slight wilt to his feline ears. His tail flicked unconsciously, and his posture hunched...under trepidation of leaving? Of being alone? Of returning to whatever civilian life her partner faced in the void of her knowledge of him? Of the weight of secrecy and hiding? She was just glad that Chat didn't have to hide from her, even if he didn't know just how adept she was at deciphering his tells. She wished that she could hope that whoever he was under the mask, he had someone in that life with whom he could be open. But she knew better because Marinette didn't, and because Ladybug was a stickler for the rules - rules she knew Chat Noir would not fail to abide by.

They were both alone in this together.

Sort of.

"So...I gotta get home...and get ready for class…" his voice broke the silence and prodded her from her reverie.

"Oh, I didn't know you were a student."

"LB doesn't want us to share anything personal with one another or anyone else as our transformed identities. Too dangerous. I just...didn't want you to think I was running off…" he trailed off scratching his neck in the nervous gesture he didn't know was intimately familiar to her.

"I'm sure she has good reasons." If he noticed the edge of bitterness in her tone, he ignored it.

"Oh she does!"

_Was he...defending her?_

He continued. "And it's not just _her_ rules- crap, I...can't really talk about it. But, like, I get it. It's dangerous for anyone to know too much about our separate, private lives, so we have to keep everything secret. Including from each other." He looked down and slumped a little more. But he kept talking. "It sucks, but...it's necessary. And...the worst part is only being able to share the burden with the ONE person who understands, but only when we have bigger problems to deal with on our hands. And, well, since we don't know who each other are the rest of the time, there's no way to, you know, check in? Make sure we're ok? Talk it out...you know? So...at the end of the day...we are both just kind of...alone…?"

She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him tight. "I'm so sorry, Chat," she said to his chest.

He rested his chin on her head [ _just like he'd do with_ Her]. "It's not your fault, Marinette," he sighed. "It's not anyone's fault...well, except for Hawkmoth." The last part he spat like ash from his tongue.

"I'm still sorry." It was muffled into his chest.

"The worst part is, like this last akuma, when...well, when it gets really bad and-" His voice broke, and she could feel the effort it took him to compose himself before continuing. "When it gets really bad like that - I'm sure you know the gist even if the footage got pulled…" He hadn't watched any of the news coverage after the fact, but he'd heard whispered conversations about the fact that replays had been heavily edited as the raw footage had been considered too graphic for rebroadcast.

"I know. I saw." She left it there.

"Yeah." He said flatly, not wanting to broach the subject further or invite the memories their night in her arms had kept at bay.

The silence hung heavy in the air with unspoken good-byes they didn't want to have to say. She was worried about her partner but couldn't let on that's that who he was to her. He didn't want to let her go.

"Anyway," he said, dropping his arms from around her and saluting with false bravado and a brittle incarnation of his cocky grin. "I gotta scram. Can't be late for trig- I mean...first period."

He was out the skylight and gone before she could snap her mouth shut.

_What were the odds...?_ She thought as she shoved her own trigonometry textbook into her backpack...coincidentally also her first class of the day… She tried not to dwell on that too much. Instead, she turned her sullen thoughts to what he had said. About Ladybug and their limited ability to communicate, to check in on each other, to know when they were ok and when they weren't, without waiting for an akuma or hoping they had the simultaneous inclination to transform. Of course, he was transformed _NOW_ , but there wasn't time or excuse enough for Ladybug to randomly contact Chat Noir for a good-morning check-in. For the first time. Serendipitously after he'd broached the topic with Marientte.

_hey, Chat, it's LB. Have any nightmares lately? Just wanted to make sure you weren't still broken and bleeding out on the pavement_ [even though I just saw you, but you can't know that]… _I'm fine, by the way. As fine as fine gets for us. Don't worry about me… knowing you're ok makes me ok… Let's meet up sometime...hang out...maybe, I dunno, chit chat about our nightmares, compare demons..._

Yeah. Sure.

She could leave a message for him, but it wasn't the same. Neither of them would take much comfort in a recording. They needed a face-to-face, for both their sakes.

She rubbed at her temples. The day was already eating into the hours of rest she'd managed to reclaim. Her room was suddenly too big, too quiet, too much a reminder of the previous nights of tortured sleeplessness. She needed to get showered and dressed and out the door as soon as possible, strong coffee in hand.

All the way to school, she couldn't shake the sense of leather wrapped in her arms…or the feel of waking up with his morning wood pressed to her inner thigh.

It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave kudos and comments if you feel so inclined! Helps to know if y'all are enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it. ❤️


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